


A Rock and A Hard Place

by pippen2112



Series: RvB Smut Week 2k18 [7]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Casual Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Flirting, Insecurity, Multi, Oral Sex, Post s10/Pre s11, Sparring, Threesome - F/M/M, Tucker Putting His Foot in His Mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 17:18:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16123163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippen2112/pseuds/pippen2112
Summary: This ship blows. Tucker cannot stress that enough. Sure seeing some new faces for the first time in ages was nice at first, especially seeing so many ladies working on the Hand of Merope.  He really should’ve know he wouldn’t be lucky enough to find someone who, y’know, actually responded to him.  So now, ten days into their trip home, and he’s bored and antsy with who knows how much time left before they get there. And a dude can only masturbate so many times before his dick starts chafing and he develops an unhealthy fascination on a certain pair of Freelancers.Written for RvB Smut Week First Time Day





	A Rock and A Hard Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grimmalie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimmalie/gifts).



This ship blows. Tucker cannot stress that enough. Sure seeing some new faces for the first time in ages was nice at first, especially seeing so many ladies working on the Hand of Merope. He really should’ve know he wouldn’t be lucky enough to find someone who, y’know, actually responded to him. So now, ten days into their trip home, and he’s bored and antsy with who knows how much time left before they get there. And a dude can only masturbate so many times before his dick starts chafing and he develops an unhealthy fascination on a certain pair of Freelancers. 

So yeah, to say Tucker is ready to be anywhere but on this ship is putting it mildly.

"Bored," he groans as he flops down on one of the tables in the mess hall, narrowly missing one of the overflowing food trays Grif has accumulated.

"What do you expect me to do about it?" Grif asks around a mouthful of what might be mashed potatoes.

"I don’t kno--"

Grif cuts him off. "Pass. Sounds fucking exhausting, and until we get back to the canyon, I am on vacation. You hear that Tucker. VA-CAY-SHUN!"

Tucker pulls himself back, sitting up straight. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'm not asking you to do anything. I just need to do something besides wrangling Caboose. Before I lose what little sanity I have left."

Grif huffs a laugh, shoveling another unconscionable spoonful into his mouth. _Damn that’s a mouthful. Bow chicka… ew, no._

"I dunno Tucker, and quite frankly, this is bordering too close to caring for my taste. Look, just go see if Wash and Carolina are free. That's where you're gonna end up anyway, so might as well cut to the chase, yknow."

With an exasperated sigh, Tucker gets up and heads out of the mess hall, shaking his head. Of course hes gonna end up talking to Wash and Carolina, but he hasn’t come up with a decent excuse to interrupt their "alone time". Because, yeah, Wash and Carolina keep saying they’re just friends, but there’s some serious history going on there, and everyone is pretty sure they’re fucking, even if they won’t own up to it. Epsilon wouldn’t even tell him what’s up, which is just unhelpful. So, yeah, Tucker would rather not barge in on them when they’re hanging out unless he has a good reason. And somehow, he doesn’t think boredom is gonna fly. 

Besides, it would be just his luck to interrupt them getting sexy. Not like he needs another reason to drool over them. Fuck, Wash and Carolina are badasses, and when they can be bothered to take off their armor, they’re hot as fuck to boot. Strong and scared and so fucking capable he can’t even believe it. Fuck, Tucker hasn't had to work around so many inconvenient boners since Tex was making regular appearances back in Blood Gulch. But it’s not like they need him hanging around like a third wheel with an inconvenient crush. They’ve got their own lives going on. Tucker should be happy just getting a chance to ogle them now and again. Chest constricted, Tucker hangs his head and starts wandering the ship, hoping he comes up with a good excuse between now and finding the Freelancers.

He finds Wash and Carolina sparring in the cargo hold. And of course, they’re out of armor. Isn’t that just his luck. Tucker lingers at the doorway, in theory studying their techniques, but really he’s fixated on the little strip of skin showing where Carolina’s tanktop has ridden up or the way Wash’s t-shirt sticks to the sweat on his sculpted back.

They circle each other, focus narrowed around each other, sharp attacks and quick parries, testing and teasing each other. Every time Carolina lands a hit, the corner of her mouth perks up. Every time Wash narrowly evades her, he lets out an almost laugh, the line between his brows easing as he attacks. Tucker’s pretty sure his jaw must be dangling somewhere around his knees, and his pants are getting tighter by the minute.

When Carolina throws Wash onto the floor, pinning him in place and twisting his leg into an ankle lock, Tucker can’t stop the noise of want that resonates in his chest. _Fuck me, I’d kill to switch places with either of them. Between them maybe. That’s a sandwich too damn hot to be real._

“Did you need something, Tucker?” Carolina asks, her level voice snapping him out of his thoughts.

 _Fuck me._ He gulps. “Oh, don’t mind me,” he says, channeling some very real lust into his voice as he folds his arms and slouches against the doorway. “Just admiring the view.”

Wash grumbles something that sounds surprisingly like _“Jesus Christ, Tucker.”_ Or maybe that’s just his memory of Church flaring up again. Swallowing against the flare of rejection, Tucker goes on. “Hey, don’t knock the compliment, especially since you two are probably gonna run off and do more Freelancer bullshit once we land. I mean, really, the least you two could do is gimme a roll in the sheets to remember you by. Not like there’s anything else to do on this ship.”

For a moment, only the distant rumble of the engines fills up the cargo hold. It’s that silence that makes Tucker actually consider what he said. As his words wash over him, his heart stops. _The fuck did I just say?_

But before he can backtrack and start covering his tracks, Carolina and Wash exchange a look, Carolina still not budging from where she’s pinning him. “I’m down,” she says calmly. “You?”

Wash huffs a laugh. “Like you even need to ask.”

Nodding, Carolina’s gaze snaps to Tucker. “Yeah, sounds fun. Whose bunk are we using?”

Tucker freezes. _Whose bunk…?_ His mouth bobs open, his words absent and his brain still struggling to catch up to the last two minutes. _Not mine. Caboose put mustard in my sheets again and I haven’t chang— wait, they wanna fuck me?_ And unbidden, that Freelancer sandwich leaps back into his mind, the pair of them trapping him between them, teasing him until he begs and fucking him until he can’t remember his name. His cock gives an urgent pulse against his thigh.

Carolina lets out a tittering little chuckle. “That’s usually what happens in a threesome, Tucker.”

And only then does he realize he said the bit about them actually wanting to fuck him out loud. Cheeks burning, Tucker drops his chin to his chest, staring down at his toes. _Not like I’d know._ But Tucker scrubs a hand up the back of his neck and plays it off. “Right, yeah. Duh. Just not used to people saying yes when I offer.”

Wash makes an unintelligible noise, struggling against Carolina’s hold. “Lina, you kinda have to let me up in order for this to go anywhere.”

“Come on, Wash. I’ve seen you break this hold before,” she teases, shooting a smirk at Tucker before she crouches low over Wash. “And if not, no one else ever comes down to the cargo hold. Maybe you’d like Tucker fucking your mouth while I hold you down, out here in the open where anyone could walk in.”

Tucker’s eyes feel like they’re about to pop out of his skull and roll across the ground. Carolina has one hell of a mouth on her. 

Wash lets out another noise into the mat, his ears and neck turning pink. In seconds, he breaks the hold and rolls onto his back, panting. “Rude,” he gasps out, throwing an arm over his reddened face. “Very rude.”

Carolina laughs, but Tucker can’t help how his eyes zero in on the tent in Wash’s shorts. And yeah, Tucker’s thought about Wash’s dick plenty of times, but seeing evidence of it is another matter entirely. Fuck, drool is already pooling on his tongue, and it’s been, what, five minutes since getting turned into a Washalina sandwich went from wild fantasy to imminent possibility.

He snaps his mouth shut, swallows hard, and calls, “I’ve got lube. Lube and condoms. And… mustard sheets…”

As he trails off, Carolina and Wash look at him, questions written on their brows. Fuck, why did he have to mention that? Just as Tucker starts to curse himself, Wash laughs and says, “Grab your supplies, and meet us at Lina’s bunk.”

“Inviting yourselves over, huh?” Carolina asks, teasingly.

“Unless you want Sarge to barge in and kill the mood halfway through, yeah.” Wash lolls his head to the side, his dark eyes locking Tucker in place and not letting him budge an inch. “Sound good?”

He nods instinctively, his throat constricting to stop himself for making another stupid comment. Turning on heel, he sprints toward bunks, blowing every ounce of his cool, but it can’t be helped at this point. Holy fuck. They wanna fuck him. The two hottest people in his life wanna fuck him. Shit, he nearly runs into a wall he’s so distracted by the concept. 

As soon as he reaches his bunk, he skids inside and pull the door closed behind him, pausing to catch his breath. But his heart is racing and his cheeks are flushed and he’s been at more than half mast for the last ten minutes—he’s lucky he didn’t run into any of the ship’s security and get cited for indecent exposure or camping without a license ‘cuz his pants are tented. He flexes his thighs, hoping that might redirect some blood flow, and shakes himself. Lube. Condoms. He has a mission.

He finds the lube tucked under his mattress, just where he left it. The bottle’s less than half full, but hey, there’s only so many ways to pass the time on the ship. Condoms prove a little harder to locate, but he finds an undamaged strip in the wellness kits Donut handed out to everyone when they visited Valhalla—still in date too. Pumping his fist, Tucker shoves everything into his pocket, takes a pit-stop by the wash room to brush his teeth and clean up. Under the shitty water pressure with a pair of soapy fingers at his entrance, he considers trying to rub one out so he doesn’t blow his load too early, but fuck that. Not when there are two sinfully hot people waiting for him. That’s just an opportunity you don’t turn down. Especially since this has happened all of never before. 

Outside Carolina’s door, Tucker takes a moment to compose himself. He runs a hand through his unruly curls, trying to push them out of his face. Smooth’s down his shitty, stained t-shirt— _fuck, why didn’t I change that_ —and takes a deep breath. _Fuck it, they know what you look like. Besides, the shirt’ll look better on Lina’s bedroom floor. Bowchickabowwow._

Chuckling to himself, Tucker opens the door without knocking and stops short. 

Carolina and Wash.

Carolina and Wash are making out.

Carolina and Wash are in their underwear and making out on the bunk.

Tucker steps into the room and closes and locks the door reflexively, but he can’t blink away from the pair on the bed. Carolina’s crouched over Wash on her elbows and knees, her muscles rippling as she rolls herself against Wash. And Wash holds tight to her hips, arching into her kisses and teasing his thumbs under the hem of her underpants. 

Fuck.

Tucker half slides, half falls into the empty bunk across from Carolina’s, his mouth dry and his ears ringing. God, they’re beautiful together, and they move together like waves, crashing into each other and moving in a sensuous rhythm. His chest constricts, his breathing ragged from more than just arousal. Fuck, if they can move like that together, can anticipate each other’s needs and desires, what the fuck can he hope to offer them?

Carolina eyes him as she breaks the kiss, angling so Wash can keep run his lips along her throat. “You’re overdressed, Tucker.”

Her voice startles him from his thoughts. “Oh, yeah.” He glances down at his still-tented pants, his shitty t-shirt. “Sorry.”

Inclining her head, she rises smoothly from the bed. She stalks toward him, dressed in only a sports bra and regulation black briefs, but she might as well be dressed in the skimpiest lingerie, because that glint in her eyes is _doing things_ to him. Making his stomach clench and his guts flip and his erection pulse without being touched. She stops just short of his knees, takes his hands, and pulls him to his feet. Fuck, he never realized how much tall she is. But then again, Wash has a few inches on her, and he rarely sees the two of them apart. He flushes as he looks up to meet her gaze.

With a grin, Carolina sets his hands on her hips, pulling them close enough he can smell the residual sweat cooling on her skin. Can feel her muscles still twitching from the workout. He curls his hands over her skin, pressing his fingertips to the dip of her spine. She sighs contentedly, reaching for the hem of his shirt and tugging upward. Tucker takes a step back, lifts his hands to help her. When he reaches for his pants, though, Carolina stills him with a hand to his chest and tips his chin up so he meets her lips. 

Carolina kisses the same way she fights. Quick and focused and determined with each sweep of her tongue. Her lips glide into place against his, nibbling at Tucker’s lower lip until his knees quiver under him. Fuck, if he were sitting down, she’d be crawled up in his lap, grinding down on him and working him higher and higher with every roll of her hips.

Warm skin presses against his back. Tucker jolts, but then there are lips along his neck and another set of hands skimming up his sides. Its only when stubble rasps against his shoulder does Tucker realize its Wash. Agent Fucking Washington pressed up against his back. Wash kissing his neck. Wash sliding his hands up Tucker’s chest. Wash toying with his nipples.

Tucker moans into Carolina’s mouth, hips bucking instinctively. 

Laughing against the shell of his ear, Wash comments, “Well, I guess you weren’t exaggerating about your nipples.”

Tucker tilts his head, breaking Carolina’s kiss and shooting Wash a glare. “Duh, dude. These are delicate equipment. I’ve gotten myself off with just them before.”

“Is that an invitation?” Carolina asks, leaning down to suck one between her lips.

He keens. “ _Oh, fu—_ ”

Wash cuts off his curse, turning Tucker’s head just a little farther and capturing his lips. He’s just as relentless as Carolina, all lips and teeth and tongue, but there’s a breathlessness about him. Wash lips flutter over him, teasing and eager as he swallows Tucker’s groans.

When Wash finally pulls away, Tucker’s dizzy, his head swimming in sensation as fingers trail along the waist of his pants. He blinks up at Wash, his heartbeat stuttering at Wash’s wide-blown pupils. Then again, what else would explain that firm hot bulge pressed against his lower back? He gulps hard.

“Well, Tucker,” Wash says slowly, cupping Tucker’s cheek as he speaks. “Any idea how you want this to go down?”

At once, an image flashes across his mind: himself sandwiched between Wash and Carolina, gasping and begging as they work him back and front. He bites his tongue because how the fuck is that gonna happen? In what reality is he that lucky? Instead, he puffs up his chest and shrugs. “I’m down to fuck. Whatever form that takes, I’m cool.”

Carolina chuckles. “You’re lucky I don’t have my toys, or I’d test that. I think you two would look nice fucking yourselves on some of my fattest toys, whoever lasts the longest would gets to fuck me.”

Wash shiver, grinding into Tucker without an ounce of shame. “She’s not kidding,” he says, groaning as he clings to Tucker. “And her collection is daunting.”

Tucker whimpers. Clearly that’s something they’ve done before, and yeah, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t sound like a very special kind of fun, but he’s definitely not up for that. Or, more accurately, his ass isn’t ready for that. Ducking his head, Tucker says, “Maybe nothing that extreme to start. Wouldn’t say no to a blow job, though.”

Wash nibbles at his shoulder, and Carolina hums as her hand dips below Tucker’s waistline, palming his cock with cold, calloused fingertips. Tucker hisses, his hips hitching into her grasp.

“The bed,” Wash says, already pushing them toward Carolina’s bunk. “Would it…” he hesitates, his cheeks bright hot against Tucker’s skin. “Would it be okay if I fucked you?”

“Fuck yeah!” Tucker blurts, probably too enthusiastically but fuck it, he’s goddamn excited, alright. “Just, um, go slow with me. It’s been a while.”

 _No shit, dickhead. If you’ve never had a dick up your ass, it’s definitely been a while._ But fuck, what a way to lose his back door v-card: in a devil’s threeway with Wash and Carolina. His heart skips a beat just thinking it.

They part briefly when they get to the bed, Carolina lying widthwise across the bed and hanging her head over the edge, pulling Tucker toward her by his hips. She and Wash push off his pants and underwear, their touches gentle and teasing. Those cool calloused fingers angle his cock just so, and then there’s warmth surrounding him and— “Fuck, that’s your mouth!”

Both Wash and Carolina laugh, into the nape of his neck and around his cock respectively, and oh, those vibrations are nice. Tucker stares down at his cock sliding between Carolina’s lips. When her tongue flutters along his shaft, his mouth tips open and he moans. “Oh, _fuck yeah_ , that’s your mouth.”

“Astute observation,” Wash murmurs, drawing back for just a moment before pressing back against him. Wash laughs, low and resonant. “Well, someone’s been busy.”

Tucker nearly asks what he means, but the click of the lube bottle opening cuts that chain of thought short. Tucker jolts reflexively, his hips jolting forward despite himself. Carolina groans around him, her fingers clenching on his ass but keeping him pressed forward until he hits the back of her throat. And then Carolina sucks him hard, pulling apart his ass cheeks, and then there’s slick pressure circling his hole, something warm pushing into him.

That’s a finger.

Wash’s finger.

That’s Wash’s finger in his— Tucker’s brain short circuits because this is the stuff of his wet dreams; it can’t _actually_ be happening, right? And yeah, he’s played with his asshole now and again when he needs a different sensation, but this is someone else touching him _there._ His eyes squeeze closed as he bares back onto the intrusion, willing himself to open further. 

Quicker than he expects, Wash adds another finger, kissing the back of his neck when Tucker whimpers at the stretch. “Any discomfort?”

Tucker shakes his head. “Just been a while. Keep going.”

Groaning into his neck, Wash scissors his fingers. “As long as you need. You feel good, Tucker. Hot and tight like a vise. Like you don’t want to let me pull out.”

Carolina hums, the angle of her mouth shifting as she cocks her head. She finger-crawls her way across his ass, one of her fingers slipping in beside Wash’s. Tucker can’t help how his hips thrust into her mouth, all the way to the root. Carolina gags, the noise enough to distract Tucker from the twin sensations threatening to pull him apart by the groin, but her free hand clenches on his ass, pinning him in place. Tucker stills himself, his cock head pressed against the tight tunnel of her throat. Carolina changes her angle, shifting into the just right position, and with careful precision, opens her throat and swallows him down.

Tucker’s back arches, his head dropping onto Wash’s shoulder. “Fuck, Lina, you gotta stop, or I’m gonna come.”

But Carolina just swallows again, bobbing her head as best she can given her limited range, her free hand shifting to his balls, rolling and squeezing them carefully. And Tucker’s powerless to stop himself. His cock pulses, spilling straight down Carolina’s throat. 

“Fuck,” Wash yelps when Tucker clenches around him. “Damn, that was a big one.”

Tucker’s heartbeat pounds in his ears, and Tucker realizes belatedly that he forgot to put on a condom. Not that he’s had any partners since his last screening—Doc was eerily thorough when they dropped into Valhalla—but normally he’s at least moderately more careful.

But Carolina doesn’t stop sucking even after he’s come. Limbs shaking, Tucker nudges her away, but Lina keeps bobbing on his length, a wry smile curling at the corner of her lips. Fuck, it’s good, but every inch of him tingles, hypersensitive and giddy at so much sensation. He bites his lip but can’t stop his moan rumbling in his chest. Can’t stop his hips twitching despite himself. Can’t stop the tears welling in his eyes and the pleas leaping into his throat. 

Just when he’s about to start begging, Carolina pulls off him, running teasing fingers along his length and laving her tongue across his head. “Good boy,” she murmurs against his cock, gazing up at Tucker with those piercing eyes. Fuck, he never even had the opportunity to go soft. “You got another one in you?”

He nods wordlessly, his mouth too dry to voice them. 

She grins just as Wash pushes another finger into him, spreading him wide enough Tucker’s breath hitches. Fuck, they’re gonna be the death of him. 

“Good,” they both reply.

There’s a flurry of motion around him, and before he realizes, Wash and Carolina have moved him onto the bed. He’s propped up on his hands and knees, still spread open around Wash’s fingers, Carolina sprawled under him, kissing him and teasing his nipples and grinning every time Tucker lets out a breathy sound of want. And when she wraps a hand around his flushed, over-sensitive dick, he keens and thrusts back and forth between her grip and Wash’s fingers.

Wash leans over Tucker’s back, his chest warm against him and his lips moving against the shell of his ear. “If you’re up for it, I’d really like to fuck you now.”

“Fuck yes,” Tucker groans, canting his hips backward before he can let his nerves get the better of him. He can just imagine Wash’s freckled cheeks burning rosy red, his jaw dropped open at the action. 

Wash moves behind him again, leaning off the bed and reaching for something. “Do you wanna fuck Lina too?”

“Later,” Carolina says before Tucker can respond. “I wanna watch him first. Wanna watch both of you.”

 _Fuck that’s hot!_ Tucker drops his head to Carolina’s shoulder, another whine slipping out of his throat when Wash pulls his fingers free. Leaving him empty and aching. “You inventing a new kind of latex back there?” he quips.

Chuckling, Wash knee-walks back into position. When Tucker drops his head, he sees the long, beautiful stretch of Carolina’s body under him, his reddened cock dangling between his spread legs, and Wash’s knees pressed up between his. Something slick thumps against his ass, and his gut flips. Cock. Wash’s cock. _Fuck!_ His ears are ringing, and he sucks in a deep breath.

Carolina cups his cheek and tips his head up to meet her gaze. She strokes her thumb along his cheekbone, her gaze soft. “Breath, Tucker. It’s a bit of a stretch, but he’s not too big.”

“Wow,” Wash replies sarcastically. “Thanks for the glowing vote of confidence.”

Carolina’s eyes flit over Tucker’s shoulder, sending Wash a quick smirk. “You always perform better when you’ve got something to prove.” She turns back to Tucker. “You ready?”

Tucker nods. “Yeah, c’mon. This ass isn’t gonna fuck itself.” He hopes his voice came out cocky as per usual, not jittery and nervous and half-ready to cry.

Wash squeezes his hip reassuringly, and Wash’s dick presses against his rim. Tucker exhales slowly, rolling his hips backward, willing himself to relax. And then there’s a sharp burn as he stretches open, and a smooth, unyielding slide into him, then the gentle tickle of Wash’s balls against his. Tucker gasps, but the air is thin around him. He’s painfully aware of the discomfort, his eyes squeezed shut so Carolina can’t see exactly how unprepared he is for this feeling. 

Someone’s inside him.

 _Wash_ is inside him.

Then Carolina arches up against him and presses their lips together. And Wash drapes himself over Tucker, shivering and straining to keep still, his hands pressed perilously close to Tucker’s. And then Carolina starts stroking him again, long slow strokes that barely graze at his glans. Tucker shudders, squirming between the sensations and clenching instinctively. Wash groans, his hips hitching into Tucker, and something electric ripples through him, pleasure stronger than he’s felt in ages. “Fuck!” Tucker gasps into Carolina’s mouth, whining and thrusting back against Wash, seeking out that blissful feeling again. 

“Tucker,” Wash moans, low and needy, his hands clenching in the bedding. “Tucker, if you keep doing that, I’m not gonna be able to stay still.”

“Then fuck me!” he gasps.

Wash obeys, thrusting in contrast to Tucker’s rolling hips, and there’s that sensation again, paired with Carolina’s teasing touches and reassuring hums and steely gaze. It’s so much more than he ever dreamed of. Tucker drops his head to Carolina’s shoulder, mouthing at her skin to stop himself from crying out every time Wash hits his prostate. Every time Lina twists her hand just right around his cock and wrenches him a little closer to overstimulated hell. Absently, he hears the slick slap of Wash’s hips against his, the dirty words Carolina whispers in his ear, the muted sound of whimpers filling up the room. Fuck, sounds like someone’s really getting it. 

“Fuck,” Wash murmurs, a low, wanting tone filling up his voice. 

“Tell me how he feels,” Carolina says, commanding as ever.

“Good. Really good.” Wash punctuates his simple phrases with a sharp thrust, aiming right for Tucker’s prostate. Tucker bites Carolina’s shoulder before he can stop himself, a high keen reverberating in his throat. Wash drapes himself over Tucker once more, this time taking Tucker’s hands in his and twining their fingers together, his hips grinding lazily, teasing at Tucker’s prostate with every move. “Tight and smooth,” Wash goes on, his mouth at Tucker’s ear. “Like you can’t get enough. Like you never want to let me go.”

Tucker moans, arching back into each thrust. _Funny, that’s my line._

Groaning, Wash pumps his hips forward in short thrusts just as Carolina tightens her teasing grip and pulls him just so. Another gasp slips through his lips before he can smother himself against Carolina’s collar bone. He holds tight to Wash’s hand, every inch of him tensing as he tips past the edge, his hole clenching and his cock jumping, his come spilling again.

Shivering, he drops against Carolina, her hands finally releasing his cock to sooth down his sides. He feels Wash pressing kisses to his shoulder, muted sounds of pleasure echoing from behind him. Tucker groans, pushing back against Wash’s perilously still hips.

“Keep going,” he begs, turning his head as far as he can to meet Wash’s eyes. His wide-open, lust-blown eyes. “Don’t want you to stop. Wanna make you come.”

Wash’s lips part for a split second.

Tucker turns back to Carolina who’s way closer than Tucker realized, her cheeks flushed and her hands toying along his skin. “Wanna make you come too, Lina.”

One of her brows arches toward her hairline. “Think you’ve got another in you?”

He shakes his head, his erection already flagging against his thigh. It’s a testament to Carolina’s determination that he stayed hard after the first one. “But I hear ladies like a linguist, and my tongue is open for business. Bowchickabow—” Wash chooses that moment to rut into him again. His eyes roll back into his head and his voice freezes up. “— _wow_.”

With a light chuckle, Carolina cups his cheek and presses a quick kiss to his lips. “Hold him up for me, Wash.”

With a forlorn groan, Wash untangles their fingers and pulls himself back from Tucker’s back. He helps Tucker lift himself so Carolina can squirm out from beneath them, positioning herself in front of them. She strips off her underwear without batting an eye and spreads her legs so Tucker’s hovering directly over her neatly groomed groin. His mouth waters at the scent of her, and Tucker dives in, too eager to tease.

“Oh!” Carolina cries as Tucker licks into her, his tongue delving between her folds and drinking in her taste. He groans into her, angling up lap at her clit and slide and finger into her cunt.

Behind him, Wash lets out a low moan, his hips pushing forward instinctively, and Tucker sees fuckin’ stars. Or maybe even God, who’s he to know. So he angles his hips upward for Wash and curls his finger inside Lina and sucks at her clit, soaking in the sensation of these hot as fuck people getting off because of him. Because he made them feel good. 

Even though he’s short on breath and every inch of him is tense from overstimulation, his chest swells. He hangs onto his self-control until Carolina holds the back of his head and angles him against her cunt, until she arches into his mouth and convulses under him, gushing on his fingers. Until Wash’s hips stutter, and he groans low and needy, and his hands clench on Tucker’s hips. Until heat fills him and Wash collapses against his back. Until they’re both satisfied before he shudders to a stop. 

He drops his head onto Carolina’s thigh, breathing deep and ragged. But his chest feels warm and tight, his heart hammering against his ribcage. Tucker nearly reaches over and pinches himself because in no reality could this be real. Even when Wash pulls out of him and hops out of bed to go throw away the condom, leaving him empty and aching. Even when Carolina shuffles down the bed and pulls Tucker into her arms.

“You know, I was skeptical at first, but you impressed me, Tucker,” Carolina says teasingly. “Didn’t expect you to have that kind of stamina. Or that long a tongue.”

Tucker sticks his tongue out, but he doesn’t push her out of his arms. Just tucks his head against her breast and relaxes.

When Wash returns to the bunk, instead of shifting around to spoon Carolina, he wraps himself around Tucker’s back, his hands warm along Tucker’s sides. “Everything you dreamed of?” Wash asks lightly.

“Fuck yeah,” Tucker murmurs as he settles into a bunk meant for one, snuggled in between two bona fide, beautiful badasses. Sore and satisfied after his first threesome. He grins. Now this is a story he’s gonna be telling for years. 

**Author's Note:**

> Questions, comments, and concrit welcome! Come scream with me on Tumblr (birdsbeesandlemonadetrees.tumblr.com)


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